If any of you have read Macbeth, then you may get the slight reference to the quote, "Look like th' innocent flower, But be the serpent under 't." So...I reversed it. Instead of looking innocent and being evil, one looks evil and is actually innocent. :)
I like this one too.
Emma Harper sat across from her headmaster with her arms crossed. She didn't want to meet his blue eyes; she knew he would see through her stubbornness to the real root of her insistence.
"Perhaps you should tell him, Miss Harper."
"No." She shook her head. Emma could not tell him now—after all he had done to her.
"Mr. Black—"
"—Means nothing to me." she finished as she glared resiliently at the far wall of the headmaster's office.
"He never knew of your assignment. He doesn't know of your façade—"
"And he never will." Her words were short and clipped. She was not messing around any longer. She had a job to do.
"Perhaps—"
"Professor, I cannot trust him. If I told him I'm— who knows who he would tell. I cannot trust him. I was wrong to think I ever could."
Fifteen Years Later
He had spent twelve years inside of a prison filled with creatures that strove to rob him of his good memories every moment of every day. After two years on the run, he finally had a place to return to but he never wanted to return here.
He was stuck inside his old home just as he had been stuck inside Azkaban. He wanted nothing more than to be a free man; he wanted nothing more than to have a home that he could live in with his godson. That dream did not appear to be happening any time soon.
For the time being, he wasted his days alone with the exception of the Order members who were constantly in and out of the dilapidated home.
At the moment, he sat alone, staring into the fire that crackled and danced in the heart. He could hear the voices of other Order members downstairs. His ears prickled at the sound of approaching footsteps. He assumed it was just another member roaming the house.
"Hello jail-bird."
Instantly, he propelled himself out of the armchair he was sitting in and point his wand directly at her heart in an instant.
She looked nearly the same as she had the last time he laid eyes on her more than sixteen years ago. The woman looked exhausted; that was the first thing he noticed about her; otherwise, she only looked older. He knew that he, however, appeared ragged, gaunt, and scarred; in the time since he had been incarcerated, he had not been able to shake the demons he gained inside the stone walls of Azkaban.
"Play nice, jail-bird." she chuckled as she rolled her eyes at his defensive stance. It was then he noticed that she had not moved to get her wand. She stood defenseless before him and was not even seemingly bothered by the fact that his wand was pointed directly at her heart.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded wildly. His chest had tightened painfully at the sight of her. He never believed he would see her again.
"What you're doing." she replied smoothly.
"Which is?" he questioned. She was still a fan of vague responses, obviously.
"Hiding."
"I am not hiding!" he yelled. She still had the ability to infuriate him in an instant. The sound of approaching footsteps did not deter the man's yelling. "Get out of my—"
"Ah, Sirius," his eyes snapped for a moment to the doorway. Noting that it was Dumbledore, Sirius Black returned his gaze to the woman standing uninvited in his house. "I see you've met your house guest."
"House guest?" he asked with angry incredulity.
Brushing passed the question as he swept into the room, Dumbledore continued on, "You two know each other, if I recall correctly."
"Albus," Sirius said dryly. "House guest?" he repeated.
"Miss Harper will be staying at Headquarters—"
"No." Sirius interrupted. "She cannot stay in my house—"
"Sirius," Dumbledore began kindly, "If you recall correctly, you have lent your childhood home as headquarters for the Order. Headquarters serves as not only a meeting place for members but a safe haven for members that need protection—"
"Yes," he snapped, "I understand that members of the Order are protected here but she does not—"
"You are mistaken, Sirius." Dumbledore said.
Only Sirius' eyes darted to Dumbledore's face. "What?" he asked slowly. "She's—?"
"Yes." A small smile flitted onto Dumbledore's face. "Miss Harper is a member of the Order. A very dedicated member. She has made numerous sacrifices for the sake of the Order."
"How long? How long she been a member?" Sirius asked as he slowly lowered his wand and his stomach twisted uncomfortably.
"Since she was—"
"For a long time." The woman broke in. "Longer than you can imagine, jail-bird."
"Don't call me that." he snapped. "Dumbledore, is she like Snape? Did she betray Vold—?"
"No." Dumbledore interrupted. "Her loyalties have never been different. She has been," Dumbledore paused to chuckle lightly, "to use her words 'a Dumbledore man through and through.'"
Sirius' stomach twisted painfully; it couldn't be true. If it was than he had ruined everything for no reason at all. He had— Everything he had done, the pain he put her through, and the pain he put himself through consequently was all for naught. He had been wrong about her.
"No…" he murmured as he allowed his eyes to graze over her again. He couldn't have been wrong. His arms fell to her left forearm that was exposed to the open air. There was the Dark Mark, burned hideously into her light skin.
Sirius raised his wand quickly again.
"She has his mark." he said in agitation.
"Lower your wand, Sirius." Dumbledore requested kindly; Sirius knew enough, however, to know that it was an order, not merely a request. He did as Dumbledore said. "As I said," Dumbledore began as he turned toward the door, "Emma has made many sacrifices for the order. I will leave you to talk." With a final swish of his cloak as he left the room, Dumbledore was gone and they were alone.
"Does it make you feel guilty?" she asked as she raised her deep brown eyes to meet his.
"Does what?" he asked cautiously. He never knew where she was coming from. She always surprised him.
"Does it make you feel guilty to know you were wrong about me?"